I’ve always thought seasonal affective disorder, what with its convenient acronym and all, to be a load of tosh. But that’s because I don’t live with Sad. It’s shamefully easy to dismiss something when you don’t feel it in your own bones. Sad, me? No, I can be grumpy whatever the weather. Also, just as without despair there is no joy, the staggering beauty of a blue sky over the British Isles would be less staggeringly beautiful if it was always there. Blue skies all year round? Nah, not for me.
In fact, I find dismal winter weather somewhat liberating. When the weather’s good, the opportunities it presents are overwhelming. A paralysis of choice takes hold. So many places to go and things to do with the sun on your back. That urgent need to be out there. Every sunny day leaves me with this feeling that I haven’t quite made the most of it. And much as I love my job, being in an office or a studio, I love it a little bit less when the sun is shining outside. In a way, life is more straightforward when it’s grey, windy and wet, as then I can forgive myself for staying at home and being still and calm, essentially doing bugger all for a bit without feeling bad about it.
